Friday, May 31, 2019

Life has once again interfered with my time this week, so no new musing to offer. However, last year’s musing for the combined B’har-B’khukotai was based on text from B’khukotai, and is as timely, if not more so, than it was a year ago.

Friday, May 24, 2019

But the land must not be sold beyond reclaim, for the land is Mine; you are but strangers resident with Me.

I don’t know about you, but the text here seems pretty clear. We don’t own the land, G”d owns the land.

To be fair, let’s place it in its context – a discussion of the Jubilee year. Every fifty years, land is returned to its original owner – debts are forgiven.

The presupposition here is that G”d has assigned lands to all the tribes (except the Levites) and the Jubilee allows for all lands of each tribe to return in their custody, even when given in pledge.

Many of today’s social activists see the Jubilee year as a biblically mandated from of wealth distribution. (You’ll find just as many writers taking that notion apart piece by piece.) Though I’m most often from the camp of dissectors when it comes to Torah (and especially to rabbinic interpretation of it) in this case my heart wants to be with the social activists. I want the whole notion of regular equitable distribution of wealth to be a biblically-mandated idea. Alas, wanting won’t make it so.

Then there’s my next want – my want about Leviticus 25:23. If all land belongs not to us, but to G”d, then all our territorial squabbles are meaningless. Yet how like the G”d of the Jewish tradition giving us obviously competing mandates. G”d promises a particular swath of land to Abraham and his descendants, simply in exchange for a promise of righteous behavior (a requirement that gets slowly refined over the course of the biblical story until it is a covenant in the style of a Suzerain-Vassal treaty.) However, before G”d prepares to make good on that promise, G”d reminds Abraham’s descendants to not forget that ultimately, the land belongs to G”d. Huh?

In a covenantal sense, perhaps it is just a form of the “I gave it to you and I can take it away just as easy” model of parenting. That fits in sort of nicely with our history – or at least, as we explain/rationalize our history of losing tenancy, regaining it after a brief exile, losing it again, and then regaining it again thousands of years later.

Why, I ask, do we stubbornly refuse to see these words in a starker context – that land ownership itself is but a mere chimera for humanity G”d simply tolerates our presence. We, as a species might retort “well hey there, G”d, You created us, therefore you are obligated to provide a place for us.” Who says that place is this amazing planet, stuck in such a Goldilocks zone of habitability (at least for our form of life.)

The Abrahamic faiths all have a complicated relationship with land ownership and rights. I wondered about other cultures, and soon discovered a rabbit hole so huge that I barely trusted myself to explore the very edges. Even the notion of native American culture that eschewed private land ownership has far greater nuance to it that you might imagine. Just coming to terms with Judaism’s, Christianity’s, and Islam’s history with land rights and land ownership reveals its share of surprises. I poked my head into the religions of ancient India and ancient China and came out barely able to breadth and range of the history. Religions ultimately reshape to accommodate the basic ethics and beliefs of their cultures. Perhaps it’s more of a dance, with the religions helping to shape as much as being shaped by, but it is complicated.

Yet here is one place where perhaps uncomplicating things could be so very helpful. Accepting that ultimately, all of the earth does not belong to us could go a long way to teaching us to care for it. On the other hand, it could also turn us into lazy tenants who don’t care – let the landlord fix it, we don’t own it.

Darn. I thought I had this and then I blew a hole in my own theory. I haven’t seen G”d stepping up to solve global warming. Oh wait, that wasn’t where I was going with this initially. Maybe I can yet redeem my thesis.

Yes, G”d promised that land to Abraham’s descendants. Yes, a small remnant has remained (relatively) faithful to that covenant (but only within the confines of their jury-rigged Rube Goldberg-esque twisted-like-a-pretzel understanding – aka oral Torah and rabbinic law.) Might not be enough for G”d to consider it valid (and maybe that’s why we haven’t heard from G”d in so long?) So does G”d really recognize this third instance of Jewish semi-sovereignty over the promised land? Or is G”d invoking the “all land is G”d’s” clause? In which case, Israel, the Palestinians, and indeed all the neighboring states need to get over this “our land” thing. None of it is anybody’s land. Learn to live on it together as neighbors, in peace. That is what G”d would want.

That, of course, leads down another rabbit hole, one around whose edge I also danced this week – reviewing old readings and finding new ones on the topic of “do Jews, Christians, and Muslims worship the same G”d?” My personal answer to that is a resounding yes, but because I am who I am, I feel compelled to learn about all sides of that question. Not all are in agreement on this point, and I must accept that some of those who do not agree with me on this are still people of good faith.

My fall-back stance, when this sort of question comes up, is always that only a G”d who understands that within all of its creation, the beings inhabiting that creation might all need differing paths of understanding and connection with G”d. G”d, even One G”d, can still be many different things to many different people. That is the true nature, the true glory, the true awesomeness of G”d.

So, even though Il;ve lots more rabbit-hole exploring to do, and there’s always the possibility that my mind might be changed by those explorations, here’s where I stand right now on Leviticus 25:23.

1. (If G”d exists and created this creation then)All land, and I mean all land in this creation, belongs to G”d.

2. Therefore, no human culture, religious group, tribe, nation, etc. has any greater claim to any land than anyone else. (That is, on a religious basis. Secularly, it’s a whole other ball game.)

3. Israel and the Palestinians just need to cut this nonsense out right now and learn to live together. Your religious claims are all abrogated by G”d’s ownership of the land.

Thursday, May 16, 2019

Anyone who is a semi-regular reader of my musings recognizes that I don’t exactly agree with a lot of the rabbinic interpretations and understandings of the Torah – informed, as they are – by, in my humble opinion, the conceived of whole cloth “oral Torah.” Who wouldn’t want the opportunity to create, redact, and edit an entire set of understandings that undergird one’s own pre-conceived ideas?

I recognize that’s pretty harsh. The Torah clearly requires a little help with understanding a significant portion of its contents, and it’s certainly likely that some common understandings of how to interpret unclear texts developed over the millennia before the rabbis attempted to record them. So perhaps saying they come from “whole cloth” is a bit histrionic. From the evolution of praxis and traditions is probably a fairer description. The problem with assuming these laws were handed down simultaneously with the Torah is that it negates or minimizes what might have been hundreds of generations of attempting to make sense of things. It assumes G”d didn’t think we were up to the task of understanding the Torah, and, at least for me, that is in direct contradiction to the words of Torah herself in Deuteronomy 30:12 (the “lo bashamayim hi” – the Torah is not in heaven, not too difficult or baffling for us. Of course, the rabbis abrogated our individual rights with the story of the oven at Akhnai, and made themselves the defacto interpreters and deciders.)

Right here, in this parasha, is a classic example of what I like to call FWTTOTT – effing with the text of the Torah.

However, no animal from the herd or from the flock shall be slaughtered on the same day with its young [JPS]

However, a bovine or ovine, itself, and its sons (children) you shall not slaughter on the same day. [my translation]

Let’s look at the words:

שׁ֖וֹר

A unitary noun representing a single beast of a (bovid) herd, בָּקָר, often translated as ox (and sometimes cow) although it is a masculine noun.

שֶׂה

A unitary noun representing a single beast of a flock צֹאן (ovine or caprine) often translated as sheep or goat

According to some linguists, both unitary nouns are meant to represent a single beast of either gender. This all gets further complicated by the fact that Hebrew has multiple words for animals, some of them synonyms, and others differentiating between species and sub-species, all of which have singular and plural male and female forms. (Though it’s my belief that this then lends greater credence to my contention that shor and se are non-gendered unitary nouns.)

As many of these others words for cows, oxen, sheep, goats and other sacrificial animals are attested to in the Torah (though some only in Nakh) this suggests that the authors of the Torah ( or The Author, if you prefer that understanding) had a choice of terms, and made deliberate choices. It would have been easy to write this text to clearly mean “a mother and its child should not be slaughtered on the same day” or “a parent and its child should not be slaughtered on the same day.” The Author/authors chose otherwise.

Given this, it would seem the plain meaning here is that no animal and either of its parents should be slaughtered on the same day (sundown to sundown.)

But no, say the rabbis. This only applies to mothers and sons. Rashi, Nachmanides concur. (Ibn Ezra agrees with me that it applies to both genders.) In Talmud, Chullin 78 there is a protracted discussion of this verse and its implications. As is typical, it cites other verses in Torah to bolster its conclusions. I agree with that methodology in principle – cherry-picking verses in isolation isn’t really fair.

But here’s the rub – I don’t find this verse difficult to understand. It prohibits slaughtering (ostensibly for sacrifice, if we take it in context with the previous verse which prohibits sacrificing any animal until it is 8 days old) any animal and any of its parents on the same day. Period. (Talmud does fairly raise the point that the structure of the Hebrew does seem to indicate it refers to only one parent

אֹת֣וֹ וְאֶת־בְּנ֔ו

– it, and its sons/children - meaning perhaps that one could slaughter one of the parents. But that seems illogical to me.)

So here’s the question. What practical end was served by the rabbis deciding that this meant only that a mother and her child could not be sacrificed on the same day? Were most sacrifices male? Did our ancestors not perceive the familial bond between father and child to be as important as between mother and child?

Did our ancestors not understand the reason for this commandment? Is it about animal cruelty, or does it have some other underpinning? Torah is not clear about the why, just the what – so the rabbis rule to adjust the what based on their understanding of the why. Something feels wrong about this process.

For that matter, why the preceding commandment to not sacrifice an animal younger than 8 days old? Quite frankly, that seems to be a pretty low barrier. By the 8th day, a good shepherd or herder could tell, even in those days, how healthy and strong an animal that 8-day-old beast might grow up to be, and easily play a game of sacrificing those that showed less promise – though this is tempered by G”d’s insistence that sacrificial animals be pure – so an obvious defect would disqualify.

On the one hand, this is the stuff that makes my head want to explode. On the other hand, this is the stuff that makes me challenge anyone who says they know, with absolute certainty, what every commandment in the Torah means.

If it’s not obvious by now, this should tell us all why the “because G”d said so” rational was created. Well, I was never that enamored of that rationale. I’m even less enamored when it becomes “because that’s what we, the rabbis, have decided that this is what G”d said.”

So why does it matter? I’m certainly not for a return to the sacrificial system even if the Temple should be rebuilt. It matters if I want to work to reclaim for each of us, as individual Jews, the right to interpret and understand the Torah. It matters if I want to see a movement that eventually leads to the creation of new, modern 21st-Century academies of Torah in Diaspora, with the goal of creating a new Talmud, new Halakha, new understandings of our sacred heritage that will enable us to successfully navigate the survive the coming centuries. We all have a lot of studying to do to even make that even an idea worth considering. I’m game. Are you?

Friday, May 10, 2019

Yes, there are a few kickers and head-scratchers, but, for the most part the contents of parashat Kedoshim, Leviticus chapters 19 and 20 contain a significant bulk of what is required for us to live in and maintain a just world of which both we and G”d can be proud.

I’ve spent the better part of this week writing and rewriting this musing, trying to highlight this wisdom and weave it into some sort of coherent system. Numerous false starts. Here is it Friday afternoon. Just not there yet. I give up. Just go read it for yourself and see what you can make of it.

The consumption of an animal’s blood is prohibited to all humanity as one of the so-called Noahide laws (Gen 9:4.) It is repeated in Leviticus (3:17, 7:26) and here in our parasha in emphatic and explicit terms (Lev 17:11-15.)

And if anyone of the house of Israel or of the strangers who reside among them partakes of any blood, I will set My face against the person who partakes of the blood, and I will cut him off from among his kin.

For the life of all flesh—its blood is its life. Therefore I say to the Israelite people: You shall not partake of the blood of any flesh, for the life of all flesh is its blood. Anyone who partakes of it shall be cut off.

Interestingly enough, except for one text (Tanna de-Vei Eliyahu Rabbah, 15) the rabbis state that consumption of human blood is not expressly prohibited by Torah. Of course, that never stopped the rabbis from prohibiting anything, so they, too prohibit the consumption of human blood, and it becomes halacha. Spilling the blood of a fellow human being is another matter, and one which is, under almost all circumstances, and allowing for practical defense of one’s own life, prohibited. From my modern perspective verses 11-15, at a p’shat level, do not distinguish, and refer to any and all kinds of blood. But the rabbis don’t recognize either extreme, opting instead to prohibit the consumption of the lifeblood of cattle, beasts, and fowl. Other types of blood may be consumed - but not human.

So the notion of Jewish vampires would be problematic, nu? Yet some of the oldest vampire stories are from Jewish sources, though authorities generally agree that the stories were likely assimilated into Jewish culture from the surrounding Polish and Romanian cultures.

Sefer Hasidim has the striya (or estrie) who flies, and who needs to drink the blood of a live human to survive. Another book from the time, Sefer HaRokeah also mentions striya.

Because she kills at night, Lilith is sometimes likened to a vampire, but I think that’s a stretch, and she fits more into the succubus myth and classic demonology than the vampiric myth. “Lilith who?” you ask. Not the character on Cheers. If you;re not familiar with the myth of Lilith, it’s well worth your time exploring. Here’s a basic start: https://www.myjewishlearning.com/article/lilith-lady-flying-in-darkness/

Many Jews are uncomfortable with vampires largely because they have seen it used and associated with the anti-Semitic Blood Libel trope. Yet many Jews who would scorn the idea of a Jewish vampire might obtain an amulet to ward off Lilith or the evil eye (or, for that matter, post a picture of The Rebbe.)

Back in 2010, Jewish author Lavie Tidhar spoke of his desire to reclaim the place of Judaism in the popular mythos of magic, demons, elves, vampires, etc. He lamented how he was always bothered that it was the cross and holy water that could subdue the vampire. This was his inspiration for his book “An Occupation of Angels.” He even wrote about it for the Forward: https://forward.com/schmooze/132950/thrilling-hebrew-tales-on-jewish-vampires-golems/

So why not a Jewish vampire? Think about it. A cross and holy water would have no effect. (What might, in their place? A mezuzah? A magen David? Manischewitz?) Would we have to develop a va’ad to certify kosher blood? Can a vampire who keeps kosher drink the blood of a gentile? A heretic? An apostate? An idol worshipper? How long must a vampire wait after consuming the blood of someone who has just eaten meat before he can drink the blood of someone who has just eaten dairy? Vampies, it is said, effectually proselytize, seeking to turn others into vampires. How compatible is that with Judaism? Must a Jewish vampire refuse a request to bite a non-Jewish human three times before allowing them to become a vampire? How will the intersection of vampirism and the laws of niddah be handled? Can a Jewish woman become a vampire? Can a female Jewish vampire get s’micha? and become a rabbi. How will the various movements treat the vampires among them? What will distinguish Haredi, Modern Orthodox, Conservative, Reform, Reconstructing, Renewal from each other? Where will Jewish vampires pray at the wall? Can an undead person say Kaddish yatom? Can a non-Jewish vampire convert to Judaism? Can a Haredi man sit next to a vampire on an airplane? Will a really strict ultra-orthodox vampire only bite someone through a hole in a sheet?

What would life be like for the Jewish vampire? How would the Jewish community deal with them? I can just hear the official line now, ringing with familiarity to some orthodox approaches to homosexuality. It’s OK to be a vampire, it’s just not OK to act on your desire to drink human blood. SMH.

All this is a little silly, no? On one level yes. On other levels, perhaps not.

Like Lavie Tidhar, I would like to reclaim the literary and mythical realms of our imaginations as authentically Jewish. We need not model everything after a European Christian worldview. Why not Arthurian legends recast in a Jewish framework? (The Once and Future Rabbi?) Middle earth? The Tanakh provides as much fodder for stories of intrigue as whatever culture George R.R. Martin based his Song of Ice and Fire stories. Where’s the Jewish Hogwarts ? (Nevermind that J.K. has already told us there were Jewish characters in the Harry Potter books.)

Maybe we can get Sandra Bullock to star in “Spice Box.”

Where is Guy Gavriel Kay’s pseudo-historical fiction based on say, the Solomonic era?

(As for serious historical fiction, you need look no further than the brilliant Israeli author Yochi Brandes.

Let’s reclaim a piece of all of it. (All of it, that is, except zombies. I just don’t get zombies. But that’s my problem, I suppose. Alright, we can have zombies. I guess I sort of already accept the premise since GOT kind of uses it. But I might never even be tempted to watch “The Walking Dead.” Then again, I said that about GOT once, too. Sigh.)

There’s Jewish sci-fi out there too. Though they’re dated, check out “Wandering Stars” and the sequel “More Wandering Stars.” Tidhar and Levene also edited “Jews Versus Aliens” the same year as the aforementioned “Jews and Zombies.”

I just heard there’s a new Israeli series about a Jewish vampire streaming on Hulu. Time to check it out.

קאָך-לעפל פּראָפעסיאָנאַל

I'm a professional pot-stirrer. Sometimes, in these postings, I posit outrageous things, or make controversial statements. I do this for the sake of sparking debate and discussion. Unlike many blogs, you can't assume that everything I post here is my own deeply held belief or position. I ask you, dear reader, to focus on the message, and not the messenger.

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